


The Herbalist of Andraste

by 5ofSpades



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood-Soaked Teddy Bear, Comic, DA Horse Goes Down While Skyrim Horse Goes Up, F/M, Herb Picking, M/M, Mabari Statue, Tevinter Mage Chasing Skirts, Tevinter Mages Not Chasing Skirts, Two Love Stories in Letters, Wedge of Destiny, a miracle, burial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ofSpades/pseuds/5ofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comic:<br/>The Herbalist of Andraste went down a hill, and it was miraculous .<br/>The Herbalist of Andraste went up a hill, and picked up many things.</p><p>Fic:<br/>Two Tevinter love stories in letters, from a concerned father to his old friend with benefits from the Circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sign of the Divine

**Author's Note:**

> When I play, I pick every plant.  
> Every. Plant.

“And there I saw the Herald, who resurrected his horse with the divine sign on his hand, leapt up completely unharmed from the deep plunge down the cliff side, and walked away with a regale and most holy air about him.”

\- A Sign of the Divine, a collection of attestations from the faithful


	2. Dear Teddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bury the Dead Operation Available

  
  
  


**

Dear Emil,

 

I hope this letter finds you well. It feels like forever and a day since we’ve last sat down together to share bread and wine. I know I have promised to visit you in Marothius this summer, to sample her morning markets for their delightful produces, browse her vast libraries for tales and tomes, and enjoy the evening sounds of the countryside while indulging in fine wine from your equally fine vinery. But regrettably, I would have to yet again renege upon that promise, poor friend that I am.

 

For I’ve found myself suddenly and most unpleasantly occupied, not with the study of magic, or the intricacies of politics, but the result of my own son’s indiscretions! I should have been firmer with that boy and sent him to you for his education, my friend. And you, always the better man and more enlightened mage between the two us, and leagues ahead of many other men, would have taught him right. But even you must remember how the stubborn boy insisted on studying under someone who specialized in disciplines closer to his own fields of interest, and ended up with that minor but supposedly respectable magister, Caelinus, in apprenticeship.

 

And what did the boy learn this year from his apprenticeship you ask? Not the rich history of our great nation, oh no. Nor the alchemy for which Caelinus is somewhat famous for. No! He has instead dallied with a fellow apprentice’s elven slave and begot a child!

 

Such carelessness! I can almost hear my good neighbours laughing aloud. Such lack of social fineness! Not even betrothed yet and already bringing home a half-bred bastard! What proper girl of good lineage would have him now?

 

But I could never deny that boy, I must admit this is a weakness on my part. Maker knows I’d get him the sun and the moon if only I could. So now I find my household with a surplus of two slaves. One of them is no doubt drooling on my imported Antivan carpets at this very moment, completely useless and a drain upon resources. At least the girl can work around the house. What was my son thinking, truly? All for such a drab looking creature too. Not with his higher functions, for sure.

 

We were never so full of such follies back in our Circle days, Emil. Why both of us were buried so deep in the libraries, that we barely saw any skirts other than our own dreary novice robes, much less chased them. But yes, please do forgive me for missing our summer outings this year, since all my time, as of recent, have been taken up with salvaging my son’s reputation, and occasionally exercising the little half-breed in the garden. (It crawls very fast, and I have to keep an eye on it constantly. Do all half-elf infants do that? I’ve never paid them much attention before.)

 

Yours, with fraying nerves

Flavius Laurentinus

 

**

 

Dear Emil,

 

Thank you again for the invitation to your vineyard. I do wish that my property in Minrathous is grander in times like this. Ah but such is the lot of us city dwellers, boxed into small villas and courtyards, like so many miniature tin toys in little wooden boxes, leaving me a rather poor host to you the few times you’ve visited the capital.

 

My son also expresses his thanks for your invitations, and also no small amount of surprise that said invitations extend to the little half-breed. But Emil, are you sure you wish to have the whelp brought along? I can already imagine it running off to prance around the countryside like one of those hallas the Dalish clans keep. But, look, here I forget to whom I write. You were always interested in the study of exotic birds and rare beasts. This child cannot be the latest thing to catch your fancy?

 

Ah, despite its less than illustrious maternal roots, the child does grow to possess more and more of my son’s finer features with each passing year. And surprisingly, its magic also grows. Oh how it grows. My son, out of misguided pride more than anything else, even claims that it has more aptitude for magic than many a mages in our bloodline’s past. At this point, I am not sure if I could disagree in honesty. Perhaps you are right, Emil, that a magister such as yourself should assess it in person, lest we let possible natural talents be buried, even in a slave.

 

So here I am, writing to you ahead of my own arrival to answer some of the questions you’ve asked in your last letter about the half-breed. You always were the more studious researcher, and your suggestions to look into its dam’s pedigree have proven most fruitful. The elf believes her grandmother to have been the First of some Dalish clan, with a bloodline that turned out powerful mages every some generations. Supposedly the old elf ended up summoning uncontrollable demons and got ran out of her tribe. This is what happens when you do not have organized mage Circles! Not the jail houses of the south that sought to leash instead of nurture, but true, proper towers of academia. All that power and no formal training. It was almost inevitable.

 

Ah but with proper training, training that I currently am personally overseeing, I can see this child become a very useful servant or bodyguard in the future. Perhaps you are right, my friend, that the two silvers I’ve paid for it and its mother were not money wasted.

 

But enough on this talk of slaves. More than anything, I do so look forward to speaking with an old friend face to face again. And I cannot wait to share with you tales of all the dull parties and forums and endless committee sittings that I’ve so stoically suffered this past year in the heart of our fair capital.

 

Yours Truly

Flavius Laurentinus

 

**

 

Dear Emil,

 

Forgive me for not writing to you as often as I should have these past few months. I’ve been a poor friend. And such a poor friend, that I must again burden you with my troubles. My foolish but dear, dear son has come into conflict with his own mentor.

 

Magister Caelinus must have snuck around my property during one of the evening parties, how else did that snake pass by the half-breed child and see it practicing magic? To think that I’ve granted such a man my hospitality! Either that, or my son is of a looser tongue than I’ve taught him to be.

 

For the magister came to us, and claimed that he had also lain with the very same elven wench who seduced my son! And that any result of such unions is his to keep. But the child clearly resembles my son! And the other apprentice, the former owner of the elf, who once happily sold her and her whelp, now maintains that since the she-slave was impregnated while in his service, he too should have some claims upon her child. Claims that he is willing to overlook, should the full value of the slaves be paid. Ransom I say. He’ll get not a single more copper out of me!

 

And my son is again useless at even protecting his own property. I’ve coddled and spoilt the boy for far too long. I must be firm with him this time, and make a lesson out of this whole fiasco.

 

The apprentice is from a small family of minor fortune and even less talent for magic, well within my abilities to handle. There are many ways to ruin such a man. Caelinus on the other hand may prove troublesome. No matter how baseless his claims are, he is still a magister.

 

Unless another more powerful magister lays claim to the slave first? I feel terrible to impose, but you did say you’ve enjoyed giving private lessons to the whelp? Would it be very inconvenient for it and its mother to board with you for a season or two? The whelp is young, but intelligent and diligent enough for small tasks set before it. The elf is unobtrusive and a hardy worker. They would be yours to command as you would your own household. Whatever expenses you incur on their behalves would be covered, of course.

 

On another note, attached please find one parcel of pressed prophet’s laurel and two wyvern eggs. The herbs are new, dated this year, hand-picked and preserved by me personally, and should be more potent than any mere merchants’ wares. And whatever are you trying to do with those eggs my friend? Hatch them for your rookery?

 

With fond thoughts for you but exasperation for the rest of the world

Flavius Laurentinus

 

 

**

 

To The Most Exalted Magister Aemilius Herminius Avilius Aelianus of Marothius,

 

Your Esteem, again I must thank you for expressing such an interest in my half-elven slave. I will arrange immediately to have all the papers in order and said slave transferred under your custody. I hope it would serve Your Esteem well as both servant and laboratory assistant. And my entire household is ever so honoured to provide this small service.

 

Most humbly

Flavius Laelius Laurentinus

 

**

 

 

Emil,

 

Do you know of a reliable but powerful tracking spell that would not harm what it seeks to find? Barring that, a spell that can track previously enchanted objects? Please, you are my last resort. You were always the better student of magic, and with the libraries of Minrathous completely open to you for all these years, you must know of some way!

 

It is my son. My son has taken the slave and child, and fled the country. Of all the years I’ve been lenient with that boy, why did I choose to act strict now?

 

The boy is both rash and muddle-minded. What did he think I would do? Make him give up his favorite slaves? I may have implied, yes but only implied, certain things in anger, and acted stern and distant towards his child for propriety’s sake, but did he truly think…?

 

I should have contacted you sooner. I should have contacted you sooner Emil. The tracking spells that could be performed with the she-elf’s blood I’ve saved on reserve have limited reach. The tracer amulet I’ve placed in my grandson’s stuffed toy, the bear that he is so attached to, has also reached the end of its usefulness, the information it returned vague and erratic. Projection of their last reliably known route points toward the Dales.

 

Fool boy, did he think his slaves would find protection with the elves? Fool girl, did she think the Dalish, those wood-dwelling, isolationist savages, would embrace her and her Tevinter-blooded lover and halfling son with open arms?

 

What have I ever done, Emil, to make the boy think that his own father would leave him to the likes of Caelinus and his fellow apprentice, to those pit vipers of Minrathous? To make him think the war-torn south overran by petty Orlesians, by vile Templars and our foolish brethren safer by comparison?

 

He left me a note citing freedom and love, a life without all the shadows cast upon him by the spires of our homeland, a bird finally flying free of a gilded cage. Such simple, romantic dreams.

 

But more powerful men than him have tried to chase the same dreams and failed.

 

Desperately

Flavius Laurentinus

 

**

 

Dearest Emil,

 

Thank you again for the tracking spell.

 

Unfortunately, though not unexpected, the mercenaries I’d sent to comb the Dales and retrieve my son and property had little success. But the spell has proven most fruitful in pinpointing the precise last known locations of the tracing amulet. Once again magic triumphs where mortal men fail.

 

As you are reading this, I should be well on my way, leading an expedition to the Dales. You cannot trust the help these days. I must go in person and drag them back myself, if not through persuasion, then by force.

 

Wish me luck old friend. The Exalted Plains are vast, but I hope next summer would find us and my family escaping the heat together at your beautiful countryside vineyard once more.

Wish me luck.

 

Now and Ever Yours

Flavius

**

\- A series of letters to magister AEMILIUS HERMINIUS AVILIUS AELIANUS, from his former roommate at the Marothius Circle, and the current head of a minor house in Minrathous

(Found underneath a travel itinerary to the Dales, of magister AEMILIUS HERMINIUS AVILIUS AELIANUS and entourage)

**

And this whole thing started by all the strange and morbid scenes dotting the land of Thedas. For those without a note or explanation, what stories were left untold?


End file.
